There is No Heterosexual Explanation For This
by rainbowspring
Summary: ...No matter how much Pansy may claim there is. A series of prompts detailing Daphne and Pansy's relationship through the years.


**Content Warnings: Mild homophobia, a thinly veiled rape threat (which is not carried out), and allusions to torture (the Cruciatus Curse). BUT OTHER THAN THAT: Please enjoy! ~**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** **Harry Potter** **.**

 **Immediate**

At five years old, Daphne Greengrass looks like the dolls she's seen in toy stores. Her hazel eyes are wide and pretty, her lips are pink and plump, and her long, straight blonde hair shines likes gold in the sunlight. In an instant, Pansy makes a decision. "You're so pretty," she declares. "You're going to be my doll."

"Okay," Daphne agrees, giggling.

 **Pretend**

Draco only agrees to play Weddings with them if he gets to marry Astoria. Pansy pouts, but Daphne assures her she can just marry her instead. When Pansy tells her mother this later, she frowns and grasps her by the shoulders. "The Malfoy are very wealthy, Pansy, and the Parkinson pureblood line needs to continue. You can be friends with that Greengrass girl, but you must marry a boy like Malfoy, or better yet, Malfoy himself. "The honest answer to that is "no", but she knows she will just get yelled at again if she says that, so she answers, "Yes, Mother."

 **Question**

"Why are Muggles so bad?" Daphne asks her in her family's living room one day. "Are they all really evil?"

Pansy's eyes dart around the room, fortunately spotting no one in earshot. "You can't say that!"

"Why?" Pansy simply points to the name burned off her family tree that hangs on the wall.

 **Promise**

"You better be in Slytherin." Pansy purses her lips. "We _have_ to be in the same House."

"I'll get in Slytherin," Daphne swears. "I promise." And, amazingly, she keeps it.

 **Unique**

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati." Pansy taunts, before turning to Daphne expectantly. She musters a small chuckle.

"How do you know Parvati?" She asks her later. Pansy blinks before replying evasively, "we used to be friends."

"Like us?"

"No," Pansy squeezes her hand under the table. "No one's like us."

 **Rituals**

Every morning, before they go down for breakfast, Pansy brushes Daphne's hair. When they were younger, Pansy was too rough, but now she runs the brush through her hair like she's touching silk. It's something she never skips either; if Daphne's running late, Pansy invariably will be too, as she won't leave the dorm until every single knot and tangle from Daphne's hair is gone.

 **First**

"What do you think kissing is like?" Daphne wonders when they're alone in their dorm room one rainy Sunday afternoon.

"No idea." Pansy looks at Daphne's lips: pink, plump, and soft looking. Like lightning, inspiration strikes. "Maybe we should practice."

"Practice?"

"For when we're married," Pansy nods importantly. Daphne raises an eyebrow. "To our respective husbands, I mean." Pansy scowls. Daphne giggles. "Okay."

"Really?" Pansy exclaims in disbelief.

"Yeah," Daphne shrugs. "It'd be good. You know, for practice."

"For practice." Pansy repeats, before pressing her lips against hers. She was right, she dimly registers: Daphne's lips really are that soft. But kissing her is more than just physical. It's serene, like crawling into bed at the end of the day, yet there's a kind of dazzling, electrifying spark to it too, like the birth of a star. Above all though, it just feels so _natural_.

"Wow," Daphne breathes a lifetime later. Pansy silently agrees.

When she finally kisses Draco, it's nothing like kissing Daphne. He's not bad at it; he doesn't shove his tongue down her throat or bite on her lips like a cow chewing cud, or even have bad breath. She just doesn't feel anything.

Maybe she needs Daphne to give her some extra lessons.

 **Fight**

"Why did you do this?" Daphne looks up from the copy of _Witch Weekly_ Pansy just thrust at her. Pansy stops smirking. "What do you mean, why? It's bloody hilarious."

"'She's really ugly, but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion'." Daphne reads. "Pansy, I don't like Granger either, but that's just _mean_."

"You thought it was hysterical when I said the only thing uglier than her was a chipmunk," Pansy snaps. "Why is this so upsetting to your tender sensibilities?"

"Because that wasn't printed in a magazine," Daphne says softly. "And she could get in serious trouble if people think she's brewing love potions."

"So?" Pansy snorts, crossing her arms. "She's just a Mudblood. I don't see why you're so upset about this."

"Maybe it's because I don't always think you're as funny as you do." Pansy freezes. "I- I really like you, Pansy, but sometimes you-you take things too far."

"Is that what you think?" Pansy whispers, before sneering, "The world isn't all sunshine and unicorns, Daphne, you don't get anywhere by being nice. God, you are so lucky you have me to guide you." They don't talk for the rest of the day, and Pansy stifles her sobs with her pillow that night.

 **Mirror**

"I don't understand why you don't see how pretty you really are." Daphne remarks as Pansy frowns at her reflection in the mirror.

"I don't understand why no Healer has talked to you about your seriously poor vision," Pansy laughs, hollowly. "But thank you."

 **Change**

It's not until she's dating Draco that she realizes he and Daphne almost never talk anymore.

"Besides growing up together, we don't really have much in common these days," he shrugs when she asks, watching Astoria from the corner of his eye.

"I just don't like him anymore." Daphne says, reclining against her bed as she makes rainbow colored sparks fly from her wand.

"Why not?" Pansy demands.

"Because," Daphne rolls onto her belly. "He's always looking at my twelve year old sister, even though he's pretended to ignore her since he hit puberty." She looks up." And in addition to not treating you like the enchantress you are, he's always taking you away from me to go monologue to you or snog or whatever." It's good that she chose to ask her this in private, because Pansy has never blushed so hard in her life.

 **Possessive**

They're walking in Hogsmeade, when some bloke outside the pub starts calling out to Daphne. Pansy grabs her hand and takes her into the nearest store.

"Never date anyone unless I say it's okay," Pansy orders. "I haven't met any blokes yet who'd deserve you."

"Sure," Daphne giggles. Pansy hexes the man outside when she's not looking.

 **Virtue**

Admittedly, Daphne isn't the best student, but Pansy can't help but wonder what Professor Snape was thinking when he didn't make her a Prefect.

"Excuse me!" They turn around to see a little first year boy jogging tearfully toward them. "I d-d-don't kn-know-"

"Stop whining," Pansy snaps. "Can't you see we're busy?"

"What is it?" Daphne asks gently. "I'm l-lost," he sobs.

"What room are you looking for?" He shows her his schedule. "Oh, it's just two doors to the left of that corridor over there." She points. He thanks her and runs off. In that moment, Pansy swears she's just like an angel. Compared to her, at least.

 **Denial**

She does genuinely like Draco; they've been friends since she could walk. He's the only boy who's ever told her she's pretty, and the only one who's seen her cry. He makes her laugh, and her parents have wanted her to marry him since they were children. But when she hangs onto his every word, it feels like she's seven years old again, and they're playing pretend. And it doesn't matter how many times they kiss, it's always so much better when she goes to Daphne for more "lessons" afterwards.

Some days she wonders if maybe he doesn't know. But then she remembers how he didn't even bat an eye when he walked in on them cuddling on the common room couch after they presumed everyone else was asleep. Or the time she and Daphne came late to class with her lipstick smeared, and he noticed, but didn't seem to particularly care.

It's not unfair of her though, she reasons. After all, Merlin knows how many times she's caught him playing with Astoria's hair since she turned thirteen, or hugging her for too long for it to be platonic. Besides, it's not like she and Daphne will ever truly be more than friends who like to practice kissing.

 **Vulnerable**

"Come on, Greengrass," Amycus Carrow growls as Daphne sobs and Pansy watches with baited breath. "You're a Greengrass. Can't you cast a damn _Crucio_?" She waves her wand at the fifth year in front of her, but nothing happens, other than more of her tears hitting the floor. Carrow glares at her, and Pansy notices how his stone eyes linger on her wet ones, and her heaving chest. He steps to her, and forces her chin up with his grubby hand. "If you don't get it right in a minute," he growls softly. "You're going to have to stay after class."

"I wouldn't bother with her, Professor," Pansy interjects. "She's just a weakling; anything you teach her won't stick. " She pulls her wand out with a flourish, pointing it at the boy tied to the chair. He doesn't move, but after blinking and noticing her meaningful look, he howls and writhes without her uttering a word. Amycus lets go of Daphne, his cruel face alight with glee. "Yes, that's it Parkinson, listen to him scream! You've mastered Non-Verbal spells, haven't you? We should have you do this every week, eh?" The bell rings, and they hightail it out of there.

"You're dropping that class," Pansy hisses once they're alone.

"Definitely," Daphne trembles, wrapping her arms around herself. "But what about you?"

"I've got to keep taking it, it'll look suspicious if I drop," she sighs. "But after what they saw today, I think it's fairly safe to assume that as long as you drop that class and stay the Hell away from him, no one's going to ask you to do that again. You're going to be safe, Daphne, but you've got to do what I say. Keep your head down, and don't rebel. Got it?"

It's like when they were younger, and Pansy would boss her around. Except this time it isn't for fun, or to boost Pansy's ego; this time, it's survival. "Got it."

 **Fear**

"You have until midnight." Voldemort's voice echoes in the hall, chilling everyone like a bitter wind on an icy day. Pansy automatically looks at Daphne, white and trembling, and immediately imagines her corpse staining the floor red. The next thing she knows, her hand is in the air, and she's screaming, "But he's there! Potter's there! Someone grab him!"

Daphne instantly moves to her side as most of the hall's occupants face her with their wands raised. When they leave, she holds her hand, and doesn't let go.

 **Free**

"I think it's about time you grew up and stopped pretending, "Daphne says firmly. "You know that I-"

"Don't say it-"

"… _love_ you. Back at school, maybe I needed some of your bossiness to protect me. But I'm grown now, Pansy; I know who I am and what I want, and I don't need you to dictate how I feel." She pauses. "Unless…you really _don't_ want me."

"What?!" Pansy exclaims. "How could you-"And the next thing she knows her lips are on hers, and she forgets what was holding her back earlier. What was holding her back all these years.

 **A/N: Please review!**

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